


Singer

by AbsinthexMind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Disguise, F/F, Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, Punishment, Revenge, Self-Denial, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: Each day that Arya would return to the House of Black and White, Jaqen would ask her of what she learned that day and Arya would unfortunately have little to tell him. She obviously omitted that she hadn’t really been paying much attention to the man she was supposed to kill. She definitely wouldn’t tell him that she had become enamored with a singer.





	Singer

Sansa had always been the one who loved music and minstrels. There were hardly any willing to travel all the way to the north. Sure Arya herself found music to be nice. As long as it wasn’t about some stupid romance or anything like that. She wasn’t as drawn to it as her older sister though. 

At least that’s what she had always thought. 

On the streets of the canal, deep in Braavos where Arya posed selling shellfish, there was a girl. A girl that seemed to be the epitome of beauty. The type of maiden that would be in a minstrel’s song. Some helpless maiden in need of saving. 

Arya never asked her name, instead using her skills that she was slowly picking up from the House of Black and White. She dug around subtly to find out anything about the girl. Of course she had to remind herself that she was on an assignment and couldn’t bother with being sidetracked. This girl though would be out every day with her lute and sing the most beautiful songs that Arya had ever heard. She could’ve sworn that she had shed a few tears. 

Even the hardest looking dockhand was caught weeping at her refrains. It was hard not to walk by her when she was playing. 

What it must be like to be someone like her. Arya caught herself staring a little too long at times. The girl looked out of place. The canals could be a filthy place brimming with scoundrels and thieves alike. They could easily pick this poor girl clean and do even worse things. No one seemed to bother her though which surprised Arya. For someone so good looking no man ever dared to bother her. 

It made Arya even more curious about this creature.   
  
  
  


Just like every day, Arya stopped to listen to her play. After her song everyone clapped and tossed a few coins her way. Very generous considering the crowd. 

That’s when the singer tilted her head ever so slightly to look at Arya’s way. Arya froze at her friendly smile. The singer digs into her earnings and pulls out a few coins. 

“I’d like to buy some clams please. If you have any.” She chimes, holding up her money. 

Arya felt like her movements were sluggish as she takes one step at a time toward her; head filled with dreamy cotton and legs as weak as a newborn foal’s. What was happening to her? This girl, no older than Arya herself, must’ve been some kind of witch to make her feel so out of control. 

Nevertheless Arya forces out an awkward smile as she puts in a small bag a few clams and hands it over to her. 

The singer thanks her and gives her money in return. “I’m always starving after playing.” She grunts while opening a clam up with her bare hands. It would’ve made anyone else appear unladylike but when the Singer did it she made it look so effortless. She didn’t scrunch her nose from the effort or purse her lips. 

“Your singing is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Arya quickly blurts out. She blushes slightly at her unseemly outburst. 

The Singer only laughs, a laugh like a sept’s bells. “Thank you! At least I can put it to good use and make somewhat of a living.” As she digs in to her clams, the Singer notices Arya’s unabashed staring. She coyly grins and leans forward. “You should probably get back to work, yeah?” 

Sputtering, Arya is about to turn around before she remembers something. “What’s your name?” 

“You can just call me Mansy.” She smiles while licking her fingers. “These are delicious by the way.” And with that Mansy turns away to address an admirer that had been waiting impatiently. 

At last Arya had a name. A name to the beautiful face and voice.   
  
  
  
  
  


She should’ve been paying more attention to her target rather than talking to Mansy the next couple of weeks. But Arya just couldn’t help herself. It’s like Mansy was using magic to draw her in. After each of her performances, Arya would go up to her and Mansy would buy some of her she shellfish and they would talk for a little bit. It never seemed to be enough though. Arya found herself wanting to know more about her. Each day that Arya would return to the House of Black and White, Jaqen would ask her of what she learned that day and Arya would unfortunately have little to tell him. She obviously omitted that she hadn’t really been paying much attention to the man she was supposed to kill. She definitely wouldn’t tell him that she had become enamored with a singer. Something even Arya couldn’t easily admit to herself. This had never happened to her. She had always been above the sickening notion of love and all the longing and disgusting pining that was associated with it. Traveling to Braavos she had already decided to dedicate her life into becoming a Faceless Man. It was the only way to avenge her family. Romantic love had no place in such a quest. Yet there she was. Thinking about Mansy when she least expected it and even growing impatient to see her again. If that was what it was like to be in love, Arya didn’t like it one bit. 

One day she tried ignoring Mansy’s singing and actually try to do the assignment that was entrusted to her. She put everything into focusing on eavesdropping. It just seemed to make Mansy’s song grow louder in Arya’s ears. The more she tried to push it out the stronger it came. Anger briefly seized her. She had half a mind to tell Mansy to shut up at least for a little bit. But of course she could never actually say that to her. Truth be told was that Arya didn’t want her to stop singing. It would be a travesty if the singer was ever to be silent. Yet it was costing her her concentration. Arya only managed between songs to catch bits of what the ‘Thin Man’ was saying. She was lucky that even her target was struck silent when Mansy was singing. Absolutely no words came out of his mouth as her singing rendered him and everyone else speechless. 

Then out of the blue came Meryn Trant. 

How could Arya forget his voice? That cruel and heartless voice of his that took joy out of torturing people. That took pride from mercilessly killing someone who was innocent. 

It was the only thing that could block out Mansy’s singing. Something tangible from her past. Someone who was first on her list. Arya abandoned her post to follow him. Like a hound on a scent. He seemed to be following someone that she did not know but had an air of importance to him. He didn’t matter. Now all she could focus on was Trant. 

She wouldn’t let him get away. Not this time.   
~   
  
  


Arya stands over the body of Maryn Trant, slightly panting from the effort of killing a big man like him. 

One name off her list. 

She smiles to herself. Trant’s blood satisfied that gaping hole that had been inside of her after her father’s execution. Of course it longed for more. Longed for the others that were on her list. The wolf in her demanded retribution. 

“A little messy, but I suppose you’re learning.” 

Arya spun in a panic to find Mansy standing there in the room. 

“W-What are you doing here?” 

Mansy says nothing, instead she slowly strolls over to her, eyes still trained on the bleeding body of Meryn Trant. “You were given a specific assignment, were you not? And yet here you are killing someone who was not your’s to kill. You have defied the Many-Faced God.” She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. 

Still confused, Arya doesn’t anticipate the hit to her head that was delivered.   
  
  


Head aching, Arya awakens. She struggles to strain her eyes into focus as the room just seems insistent on spinning. When she manages to do so, she recognizes her surroundings as the Hall of Faces. The face she had taken just a few hours prior was put back into it’s original spot as if it had never been bothered. 

Her head lolls around as she pushes herself up to a sitting position. The last thing she remembered was killing Trant. How could she ever forget that moment? It had tasted so sweet on her tongue until. . . 

Mansy. 

Mansy had been there. 

Arya touches her temple. 

“A girl is awake.” 

Her eyes blur for a moment before clearing up at the sight of a robed Jaqen H’Ghar. Disappointment evident on his normally stoic face. Next to him. . . Next to him stood Arya’s singer. Mansy had her arms folded in front of her, her lute gone and all cheeriness that she normally had in her eyes were absent as well. An already confused Arya straightens her spine at the sight of Mansy. The cloudiness in her head suddenly gone. Confusion at the circumstance further deepened. Standing quietly behind Mansy was the slim figure of the Waif. 

“Mansy. . .” Arya can’t help but whisper out. 

“Names mean nothing in the House of Black and White. You should’ve learned that already.” Her fingers curl underneath her chin and to Arya’s shock the face she had known as Mansy was slipped right off. Underneath was a face less vibrant, but somehow still lovely to Arya. Of course she felt deceived but the true face underneath felt more like the girl than the mask she had been parading around in. There was a deep, ugly scar running from the bottom of her left eyelid that scratched down to her full cheek. Running around her neck were even deeper marks that reminded Arya of a hanged man’s neck. She looked even younger than Arya had thought when she had been Mansy. 

She tilts her head toward her counterpart. “I thought you said you were training her. Yet the very first day I showed up at the docks she was immediately distracted. I’m disappointed in you Jaqen. She wasn’t even able to detect any of my lies.” 

“A man assumed wrong.” Jaqen admits. “A man assumed that a certain girl had dedicated her life to the Many-Faced God. That she would detach herself from her past.” 

“What’s going on?” Arya finally pipes in and grabs their attention. 

The girl she had once known as Mansy toes around her like an animal does before killing it’s prey. “I was another test. I had hoped better for you. You still hold tightly onto your past. A cruel past it was, I will admit, but you wanted to be a Faceless Man correct? That means we give up our lives. They are nothing compared to serving our god.” 

“A man’s life was not your’s to take.” Jaqen goes on to say. “A girl stole from the Many-Faced God. Now a debt is owed.” 

Even with the other two in the room, all Arya could focus on was the Singer. Even as the Waif grabbed her from behind, Arya kept her eyes trained on the Singer.


End file.
